Sunday, August 25, 2013

Plucking Up and Planting


St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ
August 25, 2013

Year C, Proper 16: The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm 71:1-6
Hebrews 12:18-29
Luke 13: 10-17

Plucking Up and Planting
            Today’s gospel lesson gives us another story of God’s power working in and through Jesus.
            Jesus heals a woman who, we’re told, had been crippled by a spirit – bent over and unable to stand up – for eighteen years.
            We’re told that the leader of the synagogue was “indignant” that Jesus had healed this poor woman on the Sabbath.
            As usual, Jesus accuses the religious leaders of hypocrisy. There are lots of stories like this in the gospels.
            But, then Jesus makes a point that we might easily miss. Jesus asks the religious leader and asks the crowd, “And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from bondage on the Sabbath day?”
            As I thought about Jesus’ question, I thought getting set free from bondage is one of the reasons we come to church week after week, isn’t it?
            We are each in our own way bent over by whatever it is that holds us in bondage – in some cases for much longer than eighteen years.
            For some of us the bondage might be a deep sense of regret for things that we’ve done or haven’t done – regret for the times we’ve let down the people we care about the most, the people who count on us – regret for the times we’ve let down ourselves.
            Some of us might be bent over by a crushing sense of responsibility – the burden of responsibility for our children or grandchildren – the burden of responsibility for aged parents – the burden of responsibility to pay the bills, to feed and clothe, to make money, to hold on to a job, to find a job, to get a better job.
            For some of us the bondage might be disappointment in the way our lives have turned out. Somehow we expected that we’d be more successful, achieve more, that we’d have more to show for our efforts, that we’d be happier, richer and more confident. We find ourselves wondering where we went wrong – why things didn’t work out as we had hoped.
            Some of us might be bent over by our fear for the future – fear about our health or the health of those we love – fear that our kids or grandkids won’t make the best choices – fear that at work we’ll be greeted by a pink slip, told to clear out our desk or our locker – fear that people will realize that we don’t have our act totally together, that we're mostly just making it up as we go along.
            Yes, we are each in our own way bent over by whatever it is that holds us in bondage.
            And, yes, we come to church for lots of reasons – habit, obligation, fellowship, the coffee – but if we’re honest with ourselves we can admit that a big reason we come here is to be set free – at least for a time - from whatever holds us in bondage.
            We come to church to be set free – to be liberated - by the old stories, by praying together, by begging forgiveness, by extending our hands and arms in friendship and peace, by taking into our bodies and into our hearts the Body and Blood of Christ.
            And once we are set free we go back out into our lives, back out onto the streets of Jersey City – where each day we encounter an endless number of people bent over in bondage.
            And as Christians we are expected to ease the burdens that bend people’s backs, the burdens that keep people in bondage.
            Which is an awesome and nearly overwhelming task - a task that we can only do with God’s help.
            Like us, the Prophet Jeremiah was given the awesome task of doing God’s work in his time and place.
            And like us, Jeremiah came up with a lot of reasons why he really wasn’t the one for the job.
            Jeremiah argues with God – claiming, rightly, that he’s unworthy – claiming, rightly, that he’s unprepared – claiming, rightly, that he’s afraid.
            But, God says to Jeremiah, “Do not be afraid…for I am with you to deliver you.”
            And God gives the unworthy, unprepared and frightened Jeremiah awesome power and responsibility.
            God says to Jeremiah,
            “See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.”
            In our own way, in our own time and place, God has given us the same kind of power and responsibility.
            In the Baptismal Covenant, we accept God’s offer to work with us and through us.
            We promise to continue praying together, breaking bread together, to resist evil, to proclaim the Good News by word and example, to love our neighbors as ourselves, and to strive for justice and peace among all people.
            In our own way, in our own time and place, God expects us to ease the burdens that bend people’s backs, the burdens that keep people in bondage.
            And, if we’re going to accept the work God has given us to do, then each of us individually and together will have to do some plucking up and some planting.
            So, on this day when in a little while the three Episcopal churches of Jersey City will gather together in unity to worship, eat and play together, let’s reflect on what God might be calling us individually and as St. Paul’s to pluck up.
            What’s preventing us from doing the work God has given us to do?
            What are the burdens bending our backs?
            What’s keeping us in bondage?
            And, today, let’s reflect on what God might be calling us individually and as St. Paul’s to plant.
            What are the new ways we are being called to ease each other’s burdens?
            What are the new ways that God is offering us to liberate from bondage the people of Jersey City?
            May God give us – the Episcopalians of Jersey City - the courage and strength to take on this work of liberation. May we work together to ease the burdens that bend our backs. And may we work together to ease the burdens that keep us - and keep our neighbors - in bondage.
            Amen.
           
           
           
           

            

Thursday, August 22, 2013

God Never Lets Go of Us

The Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
August 22, 2013

The Funeral of Stanley Oglesby
Job 19:21-27a
Psalm 139:1-11
Revelation 7:9-17
John 14:1-6

God Never Lets Go of Us
            As a priest, I guess I’m sort of a professional Christian. I spend much of my life thinking about and talking about how we come to know God through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
            There are some times, though, when I catch myself feeling kind of surprised that Christianity ever really took off as a religion. It amazes me that faith in Jesus spread from a small group of frightened and dazed followers in Palestine two thousand years to the millions of people all around the world, including right here in Jersey City, who claim Jesus is Lord.
            Christianity’s popularity surprises me because our faith really doesn’t try to sugarcoat life. Our Christian faith is honest about suffering, loss, and despair. Our Christian faith is honest that all too often life can feel like – that life is, in the words of our reading from Revelation – a great ordeal.
            We never claim that being a Christian means we’ll live a life without suffering. Just the opposite, often.
            The Christian honesty about life’s suffering, loss and despair has its roots in Judaism, of course.
            In our first lesson this morning we heard a passage from the Book of Job – the powerful tale of an upright and righteous man who is sorely, sorely afflicted. Job is afflicted for no really good reason. We’re told there’s a little heavenly bet made between God and Satan on whether Job will finally crack and curse God. Not such a great reason for so much suffering.
            Job never quite curses God. But, man, he sure suffers – he sure goes through a great ordeal – he sure experiences loss – he sure despairs.
            At one point, Job cries out, “Have pity on me, have pity on me, O you my friends, for the hand of God has touched me! Why do you, like God, pursue me never satisfied with my flesh?”
            Job’s suffering, Job’s losses, and Job’s despair were all too real.
            Yet, throughout his great ordeal, even when all hope seemed to be lost – especially when all hope seemed to be lost - God never lets go of Job.
            And then there’s Jesus.
            Although we Christians believe Jesus is the Son of God, we’ve always insisted that Jesus was a real flesh and blood human being. Jesus lived and walked among us. Jesus shared in our humanity. And the gospels are clear that our brother Jesus knew real suffering and painful despair.
            Jesus knew the pain of rejection when the people in his hometown refused to accept him, leaving him seemingly powerless to heal and to teach.
            Jesus knew the pain of loss when he wept outside the tomb of his friend Lazarus.
            Jesus knew the pain of betrayal when one of his own turned against him and just about everybody abandoned him to die alone the shameful death of a common criminal.
            Jesus knew the pain of saying good-bye to those he loved – of looking at their confused and frightened faces – of hearing Thomas say, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”
            Jesus knew the searing physical pain of dying on the cross – the nails driven through his wrists and feet, the thorns thrust on his head, the gasping for breath as his dying body strained for air.
            Jesus knew the emotional and spiritual pain of dying on the cross, crying out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
            Yet, throughout the great ordeal, even when all hope seemed to be lost – especially when all hope seemed to be lost - God never lets go of Jesus.
            And then there’s Stanley - and there’s us.
            Today we are experiencing real suffering, loss and despair.
            I never had the chance to meet Stanley but listening to his mom, his sister and his niece – reading his obituary – and hearing the remembrances today - really make me wish I had known him.
            I know you all would have loved to have him for a lot longer. He lived his life with love, zest and compassion. He was someone who managed to pull off being both a boxer…and a model. He was someone who loved all kinds of animals. He was a faithful Christian. He was someone who was a devoted husband, father, son, grandson, brother, and uncle. He was a caring and reliable friend. He was a trusted and respected coworker.
            And he looked good doing it!
            (His family told me he resembled Billy Dee Williams. I took that with a grain of salt until I saw the pictures. It’s true!)
            But, like for all of us, at times life was a great ordeal for Stan.
            He experienced great suffering, loss and despair.
            In the midst of all that suffering, loss and despair, like Job and Jesus and so many others before him, like many of us here today, there must have been times when Stan cried out to God, “Why have you forsaken me?”
            And maybe Stan couldn’t feel it, but throughout the great ordeal, even when all hope seemed to be lost – especially when all hope seemed to be lost - God never let go of Stanley.
            And God still hasn’t let go of him and will never let go of him.
            When Jesus died on the cross, it looked like that was the end of the story. Thomas and the other first frightened and dazed disciples must have thought that they had been fooled – that all their hopes were destroyed – that death really was the end for Jesus and death was the end for us all.
            But, three days later, love defeated death once and for ever.
            God never let go of Jesus.
            God never let go of Stanley.
            And God will never let go of us.
            So, yes, today is a day of suffering, loss and despair. We will miss Stanley.
            But, today is also a day of celebration.
            It’s a day to celebrate the life of this wonderful man.
            And it’s a day to celebrate that Stanley is now with the God of love who never let go of him – the God who never lets go of us.
            Amen.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Much More Than Nice

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ
August 18, 2013

Year C, Proper 15: The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Isaiah 5:1-7
Psalm 80:1-2, 8-18
Hebrews 11:29-12:2
Luke 12:49-56

Much More Than Nice
            In a couple of months we’ll begin confirmation class for our youth, eighth grade and up.
            I’ve found that confirmation class is always an interesting – and often moving experience.
            It’s great to be with young people as, maybe for the first time, they begin exploring their faith in an adult way. I try to encourage them to really think about what they believe – to look for how God has been active in their lives – to ask some of the big questions of life – and begin to answer those questions for themselves.
            One of the exercises I always do early on in confirmation class is to ask what words they would use to describe Jesus.
            Sometimes the answers are a little more, um, casual, than I would probably use – things like “awesome dude” or “cool guy.”  But true enough.
            And sometimes kids will throw out some religious language like “messiah” or “Son of God” or “Savior.” Of course, those are all perfectly fine and correct, right?
            But, I have mixed feelings about what’s maybe the most common word I’ve heard used to describe Jesus: “nice.” Jesus is nice.
            There’s nothing exactly wrong with that, I guess. And I think it reflects the way many of our kids and, if we’re honest, many of us think about Jesus and our faith.
            I think often our faith basically comes down to this: Jesus was a nice man who lived a long time ago. He taught people to be nice to each other. This nice man was, for some reason, killed. But, everything ends up OK because he rose from the dead. And now Jesus wants us to be nice like he was so that when we die we’ll be in heaven with him and all the other nice people.
            Now, don’t get me wrong: there’s nothing wrong with niceness. I know that we all try to be nice, though sometimes we fall short. And the world would be a much better place if people would just be nice to each other.
            But, Jesus was about much more than niceness.
            The first disciples didn’t give up their lives and follow Jesus because he was nice. People still don’t give up their lives and follow Jesus because he was nice.
            The political and religious powers didn’t arrest Jesus and kill Jesus because he was nice.           
            No, Jesus was about much more than niceness.           
            And we hear some of that much more than niceness in today’s harsh-sounding gospel reading. Jesus says,
            “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”
            “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
            Not such nice words from Jesus.
            Jesus knows that his much more than nice message will set the world on fire. Jesus knows that his much more than nice message will divide people – will even divide fathers against sons, mothers against daughters.
            Throughout his life and ministry, Jesus brought us the much more than nice message that we are to love our neighbors as our selves, and we are to love even our enemies – to especially love our enemies.
            Jesus brings us the much more than nice message that we are to turn the other cheek and to give up what we have for those in need.
            Jesus brings us the much more than nice message that God has a special love for the poor, for the humble, for the despairing, for the outcast and for the despised – that God has a special love for exactly the kinds of people that usually we really don’t want to hang around with.
            Jesus brings the much more than nice message that God’s kingdom of justice and righteousness has arrived and begun – and it’s going to upset and anger a lot of people, especially the leaders of the world’s kingdoms – the Caesars, the Pilates, the high priests, the rich, the powerful – the people who like things just the way they are, thank you very much.
            God’s kingdom of justice and righteousness has arrived and begun and it’s going to upset and anger a lot of people - the people who are willing to fight and even kill the innocent – who are willing even to kill the Son of God – who are willing to do whatever it takes to keep things just the way they are.
            Jesus knows that his much more than nice message will set the world on fire. Jesus knows that his much more than nice message will divide people – will sometimes even divide fathers against sons, mothers against daughters.
            Now, I don’t know about you, but I think I’d rather avoid all this trouble and just be nice.
            But, if we’re going to be faithful followers of Jesus, with God’s help we’re going to have to be much more than nice.
            And we have so many examples of faithful Christians past and present who took up Jesus’ much more than nice message and who gave away their lives in loving service to God and to their sisters and brothers.
            As the author of the Letter to the Hebrews writes, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that it is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith…”
            This past Wednesday the church remembered and celebrated a remarkable member of that cloud of witnesses, Jonathan Myrick Daniels.
            Daniels was an Episcopal seminarian studying in Cambridge, Massachusetts, during the most intense days of the 1960s civil rights movement. As a white man living comfortably in the North, he could have just been nice and discussed with his friends and classmates, al of them shaking their heads about how terrible it was the way some white Southerners were treating black people.
            Jon Daniels could have just been nice and maybe sent a check, a little donation, to some civil rights organization.
            Jon Daniels could have just been nice and maybe attended a march or a protest in the relative safety of Boston or Cambridge.
            Jon Daniels could have just been nice and even traveled to the South, joined a march or a protest for a day or two, and then returned home, satisfied that he had done his bit for freedom and equality.
            But, instead, in March of 1965, when Martin Luther King Jr. called for students to come to the South – to come to Selma, Alabama and join in the march to Montgomery, Jon Daniels left the safety and comfort of the seminary and relocated to Selma, where he lived with a local African-American family.
            He did the much more than nice work of bringing black people into a whites-only Episcopal church in Selma. He protested and boycotted. And, on August 13, he and a few others were arrested in a small Alabama town.
            After their release on Friday, August 20th, four of them tried to enter a local store to buy a cold drink. A white man with a shotgun met them at the door. He told them to leave or be shot. After a brief confrontation, he aimed the gun at one of the four, a teenage black girl named Ruby Sales.
            Jonathan Daniels then did something much, much more than nice, pushing Ruby out of the way and taking the blast of the shotgun himself. He was killed instantly.
            The story of Jonathan Myrick Daniels, seminarian and martyr, and the stories of so many other faithful Christians in that “cloud of witnesses” is a powerful reminder that that, with God’s help, it really is possible for us to run with perseverance the race that is set before us. It really is possible to follow in the steps of that “awesome dude” and “cool guy.”  It really is possible to follow in the steps of Jesus.
            But, we’re going to have to be much more than nice.
            Following Jesus means that right here in Jersey City, we love our neighbors as ourselves, we love even our enemies – we especially love our enemies.
            Following Jesus means that right now in Jersey City, we turn the other cheek and to give up what we have for those in need.
            Following Jesus means that right here in Jersey City, we proclaim that God has a special love for the poor, for the humble, for the despairing, for the outcast and for the despised – that God has a special love for exactly the kinds of people that we really don’t want to hang around with.
            Following Jesus means that right now in Jersey City, we announce that God’s kingdom of justice and righteousness has arrived and begun.
            Following Jesus means that right here in Jersey City, with God’s help, we’re going to have to be much more than nice.
            May it be so.
            Amen.

           
           

           
            

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Complacency


St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Jersey City NJ
August 11, 2013

Year C, Proper 14: The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Psalm 50:1-8, 23-24
Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16
Luke 12:32-40

Complacency
            Some of you know that math was by far my weakest subject in school. I hated it. I didn’t understand it. I must have been absent the day the teacher explained what was the whole point of math. And, what was most upsetting was that math regularly did a number on my grades. (Pun intended.) There were plenty of marking periods that I was kept off the honor roll because of my poor math grades.
            In my junior year of high school I took Pre-Calculus. It’s a long – and still, to me, not yet quite funny – story. Almost everybody else in the class was a senior. There were also a few of mathematically advanced juniors – and there was me – with my seat, appropriately enough, all the way in the back of the classroom.
            Anyway, for me Pre-Calculus was a horror show, an academic bloodbath. Some of my friends tried to help, but for the most part I had no idea what was going on in the class. When I went to the teacher to ask for extra help she’d ask me why I hadn’t paid attention when she had explained all of this in class.
            I was often sick to my stomach before class and nearly shaking with fear before tests.
            One day, though, the teacher returned our tests and somehow – it really must have been a minor miracle – I got an “80.” I couldn’t believe it! I was overjoyed and very pleased with myself.
            And then a couple of weeks later we got our next test back. Again I looked at my grade in disbelief. An “80” again! I can still feel what it was like to see that comfortably passing grade. After she finished passing out the tests, the teacher called to me,
            “Murphy, come up here.”
            I expected some words of congratulations and encouragement – a little pat on the back. Or, maybe, I was going to be held up as an example for the rest of the class: “See what happens when you work hard, when you don’t give up?”            
             Instead, when I got up to her desk, she looked me in the eye and asked,
            “Murphy, you know what your problem is?”
            “Um…”
            Then, in a stage whisper she said, “You’re complacent!”
            Knowing only too well that the whole class of seniors and mathematically advanced juniors had just listened in on this little exchange, I made the long walk back to my desk, wondering how it was possible that getting two 80s in a row meant that I was complacent – meant that I was satisfied with the ways things were – that I was smug because of my comfortably passing test grades – that I was unwilling to do more – to try harder – to reach for an even greater goal.
            All these years later, I’m still not sure I really was complacent in that Pre-Calculus class. Terrified, yes; Pleased by two 80s in a row, yes; complacent, maybe.
            But, complacency – being self-satisfied – is a real danger for people like us, for people of faith, and especially for us regular churchgoers.
            For those of us who are here most Sundays, it can be easy to slip into the idea that just coming to church is enough – that just showing up here fulfills everything God expects of us – that we’ve done our bit. And if we make that mistake, we can easily become complacent about how we live the rest of our lives.
            I bet we’ve all known people like that. I bet we’ve all been that person, at least sometimes.
            The complacency that follows from deciding that showing up is enough is especially dangerous because we end up leading double lives, being hypocrites. We say and do one thing when we’re here but then say and do very different things when we’re out there in the world.           
            In our Old Testament reading from Isaiah we heard loud and clear a very major prophetic theme: God is displeased when our worship and our everyday lives don’t come close to matching up.
            In fact, speaking through Isaiah, God sounds downright disgusted!
            “I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of beasts; I do not delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats…bringing offerings is futile; incense is an abomination to me.”
            And if God were speaking through Isaiah to us today, maybe we’d hear: “I have had enough of your empty prayers; I do not delight in your hymns.”
            And, I guess we could just keep the rest: “bringing offerings is futile; incense is an abomination to me.”
            Then, still speaking through Isaiah, God declares what’s most important:
            “Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed...”
            Yes, complacency is a real danger for those of us who come to church a lot. It’s easy to slip into the idea that just showing up is enough – that just being here makes us Christian. And it’s dangerous – and displeasing to God – if what we say and do in here doesn’t come close to matching up with what we say and do out there.
            In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus addresses another danger of complacency. When we’re complacent, we stop paying attention – we stop looking for Jesus in the world around us, among the people that we meet at work or school, on the bus, or on Bergen Avenue or Kennedy Boulevard.
            Jesus says, “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks.”
            If we’re complacent it’s unlikely that we’re “dressed for action” or that we “have our lamps lit.” If we’re complacent, it’s unlikely that we’re being mindful – really paying attention – really looking for Jesus – really on the watch for ways to “seek justice and rescue the oppressed.”
            By now, most of you know how much I like that we have a lot going on here at St. Paul’s.
            For example, as I think I’ve mentioned before, we have worship not only on Sunday but every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. We celebrate the Eucharist on all the major feast days, no matter what day of the week they fall on.
            Our food collection container in the back of church is filling up faster and faster every week as more of us remember to pick up something extra at the market for our hungry neighbors. Each third Saturday of the month we have more and more food to bring over to the food pantry at Church of the Incarnation.
            Next Sunday afternoon we’re going to host the Garden State Episcopal Community Development Corporation’s volunteer dinner. We’ll be extending hospitality to and serving the generous people who give so much time and talent to people right here in Jersey City who are in need.
            I could go on. It’s a lot. And, frankly, it would be easy for us to say that’s good enough. It would be easy for us to say, you know, we’re comfortable with a couple of back-to-back 80s. It would be easy for us to grow complacent.
            But, Jesus calls to be “dressed for action,” to be alert, to be ready, to look for opportunities to match what we say and do in here with what we say and do out there.
            So, imagine with me, St. Paul’s one year from now…
            A number of parishioners have generously volunteered to serve as worship leaders allowing us to offer at least one service every day of the week. People from all around the neighborhood discover St. Paul’s as a house of prayer for all people.
            Imagine with me, St. Paul’s one year from now…
            Inspired by what we’ve seen every third Saturday over at Incarnation, a number of parishioners decide to host food pantry here at St. Paul’s that’s open on, let’s say, the first Saturday of the month. People from all over the neighborhood discover St. Paul’s is a place where what we say and do outside in the world really match up with what we say and do in church.
            Imagine with me, St. Paul’s one year from now…
            Inspired by what we saw at Garden State Episcopal’s volunteer dinner, a number of parishioners, including some of our young adults, decide to get involved as volunteers themselves. Some work at the food pantry. Some mentor young people. Others tutor kids, yes, maybe even with their math homework. Next year we’re proud not only to host the volunteer dinner but also to see Garden State Episcopal honor some of our own parishioners.
            That’s just what I imagine. I’m sure we all can imagine lots of wonderful ministries, lots of exciting possibilities, for us individually and together as a church.
            So, today’s lessons remind us that we need to avoid complacency. Jesus calls us to be “dressed for action,” to be alert, to be ready, to look for opportunities to match what we say and do in here with what we say and do out there.
            We’re called to be on the watch for ways to “seek justice and rescue the oppressed.”           
            It’s a big challenge. But, we all know that, with God’s help, we can do amazing things, right here at St. Paul’s.
            Amen.
                        

Sunday, August 04, 2013

Rich Toward God


St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ
August 4, 2013

Year C, Proper 13: The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Hosea 11:1-11
Psalm 107:1-9, 43
Colossians 3:1-11
Luke 12:13-21

Rich Toward God
            Our Wednesday morning healing Eucharist has become one of the highlights of my week. And this week was particularly special because we celebrated the feast day of one of my favorite saints, Ignatius of Loyola.
            Ignatius was born into an aristocratic family in the Basque country of northern Spain in 1491 – just before Columbus’ arrival in America. As a young man he was interested in all the typical things a man of his time and class would have been into: women, chivalry, and battle.
            And, actually, Ignatius’ life was forever changed by an injury he suffered during a battle; a cannonball shattered his leg. He spent a long time recovering – a recovery that included the excruciating and futile re-breaking of his leg, done out of vanity: he didn’t want to walk with a limp.
            Anyway, during those long months of recovery Ignatius only had a couple of books to read. One of them was a life of the saints. And as he read about the great Christian martyrs and heroes of the past he gradually began to imagine himself as a different kind of soldier – a soldier for Christ.
            To make a long – and at least I think interesting – story short, Ignatius ended up starting a new religious order, the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits, as they are known, will get involved in many areas of life but are to this day especially focused on education. Right here in Jersey City, St. Peter’s Prep and University are Jesuit institutions.
            Anyway, in recent years lots of people – not just Jesuits – have become interested in the spirituality of Ignatius of Loyola.
            Ignatius believed that we could find God in all things.
            He believed that God can and does speak to us through our imaginations.
            And, Ignatius was especially interested in the challenge of discernment – the hard work of prayerfully figuring out what God is calling us to be and to do.            
            Obviously, there’s no discernment needed if we’re thinking about doing something wrong. We don’t need to pray to see if God wants us to steal or lie or hurt someone’s feelings. We already know the right answer.
            Discernment is always about choosing between and among good things. And that’s hard.
            So, Ignatius put together what’s called The Spiritual Exercises to help people use their imaginations to discern God’s will in and for their lives.
            So, let’s say we’re faced with a tough decision between good things. One of Ignatius’ exercises involves imagining that we are on our deathbeds. He says imagine you’re on your deathbed looking back at your decision. How do you feel then? Did you choose the greater – the greatest good?
            Although I’m sure we don’t like to imagine our deathbeds, I think you’ll agree that imagining it does help focus our thinking – helps us get our priorities straight!
            I was reminded of Ignatius’ deathbed exercise when I started reflecting on today’s gospel lesson.
            In today’s reading from the Gospel of Luke, Jesus offers a couple of pretty clear warnings against greed.
            First we’re told that “someone in the crowd” asked Jesus to intervene in a dispute about family inheritance. If any of you have been involved in that kind of situation, you know just how much fun that can be. Jesus is no fool and has no interest in getting drawn into that kind of mess.
            Instead he says, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”
            Then Jesus illustrates that point with a little parable about a rich man who does very well by the standards of the world. His land produces so much. He has the rather nice problem of having to build new barns to store all of his grains and other stuff. He takes great comfort in his security and his abundance, telling himself that he can “relax, eat, drink and be merry.”
            And then, it’s all over in a flash. This is no deathbed exercise. Suddenly the rich man’s life is demanded of him. None of his stuff matters anymore. All that grain, all those possessions, all the plans for new barns are meaningless, pointless and useless.
            Jesus ends the parable with a haunting statement: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”
            “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”
            In the movie Wall Street the character Gordon Gecko (played by Michael Douglas) says the now-famous line: “greed, for lack of a better word, is good.”
            We live and breathe in a society that in a very real way is based on greed – a culture that teaches and encourages that the more we buy – the more we have – then the better we are – and the more secure and happier we’ll be.
            A couple of years ago one of the fastest-growing industries in our country was the storage business. Suddenly all over the place storage facilities began to pop up offering units to store all the stuff we couldn’t fit into our homes.
            Jesus’ message is as clear and timely as ever. Greed is not good.
            So, if we’re greedy, we need to stop it because it’s bad for us and it’s bad for the world. If we’re greedy, then we need to change our ways because at the end of our lives – on our deathbeds – all of our stuff will be meaningless and useless.
            But, I’ve known many of you for a long time. And I’m getting to know many of the rest of you.
            And I know that many, if not all, of us are under a lot of financial pressure – struggling to pay bills, sacrificing things we might want or even need, worried about how we’ll pay next month’s rent or the PSE&G bill, anxious about the financial futures of kids and grandkids. Most of us wouldn’t mind a little more to store away in our “barn.”
            I’ve never seen a lot of evidence of greed among the people of St. Paul’s.
            Instead I’ve always seen deep generosity here.
            Just in the couple of months that I’ve been rector, there’s always been a generous response each time I’ve asked for your help or support.
            When the choristers from New Mexico visited us, to be honest I wondered how that would all work out. But, I didn’t have to worry! Thanks to you, we ended up with way more sleeping bags and pillows – some of them brand-new – than we needed.
            Each month our food container in the back of church fills up faster and faster as more of us remember to buy a little more at the market and offer our abundance to our neighbors in need.
            And, not to be crass, but week after week the offering here at St. Paul’s is increasing – more and more of us are dropping money into the plate – more and more of us are pledging – more and more of us want to support the good ministries that are happening here – to move St. Paul’s closer to financial self-sufficiency and growth.
            So, I’m not sure greed is our problem.
            So, if we’re not greedy, does today’s gospel lesson have anything to say to us?
            Let’s look at the story again.
            The man in the parable is interpreted as being greedy. But, I’m not sure that’s really true, at least the way Jesus tells the story. As far as we know, the man doesn’t cheat anyone for his wealth or for his goods. As far as we know, the man doesn’t neglect his obligations. As far as we know, the man isn’t mean or cruel or even particularly selfish.
            Really the man failed at the task of discernment.
            It seems that he discerned that the greatest good was insuring his own material security and enjoying his life – filling up the barns and relaxing, eating, drinking and being merry.
            Relaxing, eating, drinking and being merry are not bad.
            But, as the rich man learned, they are not the greatest good.
            The greatest good is being, as Jesus says, “rich toward God.”
            So, we all have some hard but exciting work to do.
            First, if we’re greedy, we need to knock it off.
            But, we all have the hard but exciting work of discernment – of prayerfully choosing among and between good things. Following the example and teaching of Ignatius of Loyola, we all have the hard but exciting work of using our imaginations to discern what God is calling us to do – what God is calling us to be.
            We have the hard but exciting work of discerning the greatest good – discerning how we can be even more loving and even more generous.
            So, let’s imagine ourselves at the end of our lives, on our deathbeds, looking back at our lives.
            What decisions can we make right here and now that will make us “rich toward God”?
            Amen.